


Standing Support

by Turtlebaby



Series: MMOM 2014 [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Desperation, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1570514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlebaby/pseuds/Turtlebaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP in which Neal needs an, um, helping hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Support

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, May. I've been pulled into [](http://mmom.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mmom.livejournal.com/)**mmom** again this year - I'm probably not going to get to all 31 days this time, but I do plan on hitting as many as I can. Yay wank fic!

Peter swore and fought back fruitlessly at the hands that shoved him through the door. He sighed heavily as it slammed shut behind him, trapping him in the dim room. He just hoped Neal had had better luck. They'd split to escape and Peter had been caught with a sucker punch to the ribs. He'd lost his breath and gone to his knees. 

He turned in a circle to take in his surroundings and was startled by a presence in the far corner. A few steps closer and he groaned. "Neal?"

"Yeah." His voice was strained and tight. "Funny meeting you here."

"Are you ok?" Peter's own ribs ached.

"I don't know." He paused. "I think, they got me with something."

"Neal?" Peter approached and Neal spun to face the wall. "Where are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." He was hunching over just the slightest. 

Peter reached out to turn him back, one hand on his shoulder, and one around his bicep. "You're not."

"Peter, stop. Just, just stop."

"What?" He pressed a little harder against Neal's shoulder. "Let me see."

"Peter, stop touching me." Neal 

"Neal..."

"Goddamit Peter! Stop, it's too much,  stop."  He was whirled around, almost knocking Peter off balance. "I'm not hurt. It's - it's something else."

Peter looked confused at Neal's blush. "They got me with a spray or something." He gestured almost lewdly toward his crotch. "Some kind of bottled aphrodisiac or something." 

Neal's pants were always a tad too tight and the dark material was more forgiving than not but once Peter knew what he was looking for it didn't take much to spot the bulge. "Oh." He took a deep breath and forced his eyes back to Neal's face. 

"So you - unless you want this to get really awkward, Peter, you can't. Touch me." Somehow the last of his sentence came out sounding like a request and Peter's fingers itched to do just that. 

"Ok." Peter nodded. "They know where we are, someone will be here soon." He made his way to the opposite corner and slid down the wall. 

Neal paced. His hands clenched so tight that his knuckles were white.

Soon  morphed into what had to have been an hour. Neal wasn't getting any better. He wiped his hands against his thighs like his palms were sweating and there was a sheen of perspiration beading at his hairline and upper lip. The worst part though, was the small choking sounds he was making in his throat. 

"Jesus, Neal." Peter finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence. "Just..." He flailed his arms. "I won't look." 

Like the very idea of his partner getting off  right there  wasn't a turn on. Nope, not at all.

Neal blinked at him, stupidity; lust and arousal clearly blushing across his face. "I don't..." But his hands were flitting over his trapped erection like butterflies afraid to land. They finally stopped on his belt buckle and he nodded. He turned away and Peter caught glimpse of black silk before he kept his word and closed his eyes, turning away.

He was doing his best the alphabetize the presidents (by middle name, his brain needed the challenge) and had gotten as far as James  Knox  Grant when he realized it had been... awhile. He trained his ears back on what had been a series of soft gasps and frowned. He was pretty sure those were sobs. "Neal?" He turned around and faced his partners back. 

"Peter..." That was definitely a sob. 

"Hey," he closed the distance between them until they were just few feet apart. "Neal." 

"I can't." His voice was a harsh whisper. "I need to - to and I can't." He turned then, pants around his thighs, his cock angry and red; shiny with precum against his belly. "It's, I can't Peter and it  hurts. " His hand formed a loose circle around his erection and he was stroking with gentle motions.

For the second time in as many hours, Peter dragged his gaze back up to Neal's face. His mouth was dry and his tongue glued to the top of his mouth. "What can I do?" 

Neal's eyes fluttered closed. "Don't, don't offer what you can't give." 

Peter stepped in, planting one foot between Neal's and pressed his hip to Neal's. He curled himself around him, one arm across his back, the other hovering just above Neal's own slowly moving fist.. "What do you need?"

Neal's hips bucked but he found no relief as he rubbed himself against the rough material of Peter's pants. "Please. Just -  please ."

"I need you to say if, buddy." Peter drew careful circles across his back. Neal clutched at his waist.

"Touch me." He choked out the words on the end of a sob. " Please ."

"Ok. Ok." He batted Neal's hand away gently and replaced his grip with his own on Neal's cock. 

Neal dropped his forehead to Peter's shoulder with a groan. "Fuck."

Peter picked up speed and planted whisper soft kisses along the exposed section of Neal's neck. "It's ok, Neal. C'mon." He bit down into the skin he'd been teasing and Neal surged against him with a cry, his come hot on Peter's hand. "There, there - breathe Neal." The other man was panting hard into his shirt, hot and damp.

He sagged against Peter. "M'sorry." He was suddenly nearly dead weight and Peter lowered him to the floor. 

"It's ok, Neal." He bunched up his jacket and put it under Neal's head. "I didn't do anything I didn't - already - want to do." The confession left his face hot. 

Blue eyes peeked open, heavy with sleep and wet with old tears. "You're cute when you blush." A smile tried to creep it's way across his face but slipped away as sleep claimed him.

Peter managed to wait until Neal's breathing evened out before he moved to a different area and found the same release himself, guilt quickly chasing arousal through his veins. 

After he'd cleaned them both up as best he could and tucked them both back into their pants. He lay down on the floor next to Neal to wait for Jones and the team to come after them; the other mans  fingers laced tightly between his own.

END

  
Thanks for reading! :D


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